The Adventures of Motherhood Without the Politican
by ultrafreakyfangirl
Summary: A collection of stand-alone one-shots of the family life of Joe, Natalie and Vanessa.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: Okay, wow. I really need a life and to get my priorities straight, don't I? I can't help it. When I'm stressed, I procrastinate, and when I procrastinate, I write, a lot of the time. So that's where this comes in. The Adventures of Motherhood Without the Politician will be a collection of stand-alone one-shots that show the family life of Joe, Natalie, and Vanessa. Truth be told, I loved writing Vanessa, and mama-Natalie and Joe as a dad. Thank you OITNB writers for gracing us with Vanessa as a canon Fig/Caputo child. I hope you guys like it. **_

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Natalie couldn't believe it. No, that was wrong. She could. It was just that she didn't _want_ to. She was in such a state of forcible disbelief, that not even Joe's hand pressed firmly on her upper thigh as she drove couldn't distract her. Not that it was an action portent of something sexual, because it wasn't, he'd just started doing that as a sort of _boyfriend_ appropriation, a title he'd given_ himself_, but she hadn't necessarily been powerless to stop it.

They were even listening to country music, some twangy bastard whining about some lost love or his warm donkey-piss beer, or his tractor running out of gas. And usually, she would take it upon herself to turn the dial as Joe crooned along, not caring that he was _fucking serenading_ her.

He was such a god damn sap. He was too in touch with his feminine side for his own good, that man, but honestly, and she'd admit this to nobody, not ever again, something about it all was endearing. Lord knows, but it was.

Today though, as he sang quietly along to Luke Bryan, she didn't have the energy to do anything about it. Even the squeeze to her thigh and his hot, beefy, breath against her ear didn't rouse a reaction. What was normally a mix of annoyance and the jump of her heart, was, right now, nothing, and this time, he turned the radio down himself, stopping his rendition of _Play it Again_ to ask her what was wrong.

"It's Vanessa," she sighed. "Tell me you're not worried, Joe. Worried that she's going to turn into a delinquent and end up in juvenile detention and – "

"She's fine, Nat. Litchfield is getting to your head. Relax."

"Yeah, but Joe, these women were little girls once too, who probably finished their homework on time and listened to their moms and dads when they were asked to clear the table. Their parents would never have predicted that their innocent seven-year old would end up in prison at eighteen. Or twenty-five. Or thirty-one."

Joe patted her knee. "And while that's true, and while I'm not going to make a big deal about you showing that you actually see these women as human beings, with families and – "

"You just did. And I always have, Joe. Don't confuse your girlfriends. It doesn't look good for you."

"Sorry," he ran his hand through her curls, apologizing again with a kiss to her temple. "Sorry. But what I meant to say was that Vanessa is going to come from a stable, loving family – "

Interrupting him again, she scoffed. "Did you just use the term_ stable, loving family _to describe what we have going on here? I'd call it more of a relationship full of sexual coercion and manipulation with just a dash of love. And a dog."

"Oh, come on," he volleyed, "just a _dash of love_?" He nipped at her ear and she swatted him, rolling her eyes.

"Fine. Two full cups. Happy now?"

He chuckled, shrugged, and kissed her cheek. "I'll take it."

Six months after Vanessa came into their lives, two after the adoption was finalized, the both of them, after much begging and pleading from the little girl, gave in and decided to adopt a dog. Now both of their newly acquired family members were adopted, and one didn't feel less alone in that because of the other. It worked, in that way.

But, the thing was that Domino, their now much beloved dalmatian, who was both a fucking cliché in his name and his breed, was a _fucking idiot._ Like seriously. She was beginning to think she'd have better luck training an infant how to pee outside, among many other things.

But, as much of a dimwit this dog was, and how he frustrated her to no end, because it was the equivalent of having three more Joseph Caputos around, but in one, drooling, disgusting dog form, she loved him; because he was Vanessa's favorite thing, and how can she not love a fucking dog, they were just so easily pleased by their humans, very much like _someone else_ she knew, and, contrary to popular belief, she wasn't a heartless bitch.

Just then, Joe made the turn into the school's parking lot, and almost right away, they came face-to-face with their daughter, a scowl on her face and her arms crossed, the young, frazzled teacher beside her. Even though it's only been a year, she's looking older, but older in the way that children do, by leaps and bounds for awhile, until, suddenly, aging because a slower process, time passing marked by the addition of wrinkles every five or so years.

"Damn, she looks like you, Nat." Joe chuckled, and she slapped his leg in response.

"Stop it. We have to handle this the right way. And making me angry with you is not a good start."

"You're always angry with me," he said, "so what's the difference?"

"Ugh, you jackass. We have to put up a united front for Vanessa's sake. We need to agree on the right course of action. We can't be changing tactics halfway through. So, no gaslighting me, alright?"

Joe sighed. "Yeah. Fine. Okay. So, should we go get her, or just let her stand out there for eternity? She literally can see us through the window, so unless you want accusations flying I suggest we get out now."

She sighed too. "Yeah. Okay. Remind me why we decided on the first child that walked up to us at that stupid event? I thought we had agreed on a boy. No hormones. No stupid advanced emotions. Boys are emotively dumb, and it makes a mom's life a whole lot easier.

"Fucking heartstrings. Of course, I'm drawn to the child who doesn't need anybody in her corner. I just hope she doesn't turn out to be like me."

It just came out. She hadn't meant for it to. Since Vanessa came into their lives, a lot of these subconscious things have been coming up lately; apparently, she had this deep-rooted self-hatred and a desire not to expose anyone else to the shitstorm, as if her fucking eating disorders weren't an indication of any of this. But for some reason, having this kid, having Vanessa, having parental responsibility not to fuck her up, all of this was coming to the forefront again. Making her sensitive. _Jesus Christ._

Sensing her suddenly fragile – _fuck fragile _– state, Joe pulled on the ends of her hair before tucking strands behind her ear.

"Hey, _no_. Don't – I was only kidding around earlier. Nat _come on_. The kid would be lucky to turn out just like you. Seriously. It's probably why I love her so much already. She reminds me of you."

Natalie let out a watery laugh. _Shit, _now she was _crying_ too. She hadn't even been pregnant with Vanessa, so who decided it was okay to still give her the fucked-up hormones?

"You are such a buffoon." She wiped her nose on her sleeve. Something she would have not been caught dead doing had it been anyone other than Joe watching. Fucking domestic bullshit. It was turning her into a disgusting slob.

"I love you. Now let's go get our kid and show her who's boss."

"Ooh, bad cop," Joe remarked as they were getting out of the car and beginning their walk towards the school doors. "That's hot."

He subtly grabbed for her hand and intertwined their fingers. She didn't say anything, she just squeezed his hand in hers.

They could hear the conversation between Vanessa and her teacher – a twenty-something with mousy blonde hair and blue eyes, as they got closer. She looked anxious to be free of Vanessa, or maybe anxious at the sight of her parents, while Vanessa herself remained none the wiser.

Her gaze zeroed in on their hands together after she spotted them, and she kept talking to her teacher as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. "You know, Ms. Mallory, my mom and dad aren't married. Isn't that a bit weird? They have a kid together – me – so they should be married right? They're not like divorced or anything, not like Sarah F's parents. They're just _boyfriend and girlfriend._ And sometimes they don't even call it that. They said to me once, that they live in cohab- cohab – "

"Cohabitation," Natalie supplied, slinging her arm nonchalantly around Vanessa's shoulders.

Vanessa looked up at her, her eyes wide, naïve. "Hey, Mommy. Daddy. Ms. Mallory and I were just talking about – "

"We heard," Natalie said, her eyes flickering to the teacher and back to her daughter. "So, we're going to go home now," she looked briefly over at Joe, "and have a family chat, okay?"

"O-o-okay," Vanessa responded, shouldering her purple backpack over her shoulder. No ponies. No _Barbie _dolls. No flowers. She wasn't that kind of girl. "Bye, Ms. Mallory. See you tomorrow."

"Goodbye Vanessa," Ms. Mallory said, and waited for Joe to lead Vanessa towards the car before she talked to Natalie. "I don't know what caused her to react like that. But knowing what I do about her backstory, obviously what you know as well, I would go easy on her. Not too easy, but…_easier."_

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, okay, thanks for the parenting advice, you_ teeny-bopper_. But Joe and I have it from here. "

She exhaled, shook her head. "Look, I'm sorry. That was rude. It's just Joe and I are new to this whole parenting thing. It's harder than we thought and – "

The woman smiled. "I get it." She patted Natalie's wrist. "I'm new to this teaching thing too. But hopefully it all just gets a little easier with time."

Natalie gave her a half smile. "Thanks. For now, we'll hope we're effective enough she won't cause any more trouble."

In the car, Vanessa sat in her booster, her eyes glued to the stupid DVD player in the back playing an episode of _SpongeBob_. Why she let Joe convince her to get this damn SUV was beyond her, but she would let it go, again, in favor of lecturing her child.

She buckled her own seatbelt then turned to face Vanessa in the back. "Hey, Nessa? Could you take the headphones off for me please?"

Surprisingly, Vanessa did as she was told, meeting Natalie's eyes. "Can we go get ice cream now?"

_Oh god_. She had no idea what Joe told her while she was gone, but it couldn't have been anything constructive, as per usual.

"No. Little girls who get in trouble at school don't get ice cream. Operant conditioning, baby."

"But Daddy said – "

Natalie glowered at Joe in the driver's seat then looked back at Vanessa. "But _nothing,_ Vanessa Kate."

Vanessa crossed her arms and harrumphed. "I shouldn't have told you my middle name."

Natalie chuckled. "Too little, too late, honey. Besides, we would have found it on your birth certificate."

Vanessa harrumphed again in response. "Stupid birth certificates."

…

Back at home, Vanessa sat on the couch, tugging at a thread coming free from one of their decorative pillows, while Domino the dalmatian sat dutifully next to her and Natalie paced the floor in front of her. Joe sat behind her on the fireplace's hearth. _Coward._

"So, you swore in class today, is that right? Now, what exactly did you say?"

Vanessa opened her mouth but in the last second she thought better of it and put her hand up to stop the little girl.

"Actually, don't repeat it. You said:_ 'this is bullshit.' _You were supposed to be silent reading, then what, out of the blue you just decided to exclaim that it was all bullshit? Seriously? I should be grounding you…or something."

"But it _was _bullshit, Mommy. I just tell it like it is."

"Hey – "

Joe pointed a finger at her. Finally, the moron was stepping up. "What did we just finish saying about language?"

It's funny, because a lot of the times, Vanessa seemed more like a sixteen-year-old than a seven-year-old, so when she called her _Mommy _like that, a habit she'd picked up a week after her adoption – _'so I guess I should start calling you Mommy then, huh, Natalie?_' – sometimes it felt weird, but it was a _very welcomed weird._

"Sorry, Daddy," Vanessa apologized, lowering her gaze to the floor.

"Hey babe," Natalie murmured, kneeling in front of her, pleading with her eyes for her daughter to look at her.

When she did, her sweet, brown eyes – like that admittedly catchy Van Morrison song Joe was obsessed with, hence his nickname for her,_ his little Brown-Eyed Girl_, were filled with tears.

"Oh, babe," she cooed again, tugging on one of her curls. She was finally realizing why Joe did it to her so much, it was kind of fun. She almost laughed but caught herself. That was for another time. "It's okay._ You're_ okay. We just want to know why you did it, that's all."

Vanessa swiped at her tears before crossing her arms. But as more fell, she huffed in defeat. Natalie took her thumb and gingerly wiped along her cheek, catching the fresh ones on her skin.

"I hate reading. It's stupid. Why do I have to know how to read if I know how to talk? We all just talk to each other anyway. We don't _read things_ to each other. "

"_Oh_, but we _do_. What do you do every night before bed?"

Vanessa thought for a minute. Then slumped her shoulders and sighed emphatically. She knows she's been caught. "Daddy reads me my bedtime story."

Natalie gestured for Joe to come sit beside them. He did, grabbing for Vanessa's idle hand, sitting palm up beside her on the couch. She gave it to him. "That's right, my _brown-eyed girl."_

She watched Vanessa smile as she fidgeted with his fingers.

"Now, if I didn't know how to read, how would you know what happened to James in _James and the Giant Peach?_ Or Wilbur in _Charlotte's Web?_ Hm?"

"I wouldn't," she mumbled softly. "It's not that I don't want to read, it's that it's hard to."

"Well," Natalie told her, "that doesn't mean we give up, does it? What makes it hard for you?"

"Like the letters and stuff. Sometimes b's look like d's and d's look like b's and…"

Natalie made eye contact with Joe whose eyebrows were raised. She knew exactly what was going on here. Of course, they'd have to get her _professionally diagnosed_ – god, she hated those words together, but they would work it out. As a family.

"_Oh_, I _get it_."

Vanessa's eyes lit up. "You do?"

She nodded. "Mhm. Guess what, babe?"

"What?"

"Mommy had the same problem that you did, when I was your age."

She tugged on Vanessa's curls again, watching amusedly as they sprung right back up like a bunch of miniature slinkies. She could _definetly_ see the appeal of this. She felt Joe tug on one of hers with his other hand not holding their daughter's and she nearly laughed aloud. He was _such an idiot._ **_Her_**_ idiot._

"Really!?"

"Wait – Nat, you had dyslexia? I had no idea."

Natalie's gaze cut over to Joe, her eyes narrowing. "Jesus Joe, this story is not about you okay?"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain in front of our kid."

"Joe, she got in trouble today because she used the word – _a word she shouldn't have_ – in front of her seven-year old buddies. I think that's a bigger problem than taking advantage of some being with like nine thousand lives who may or may not exist."

Joe sighed. "Touché. Continue."

"So, Nessa, as I was saying. Mommy had the same issue, trying to decipher between b's and d's. And let me guess, m's and n's are hard too, right?"

Vanessa's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "So hard! And like, you know in your head that a word like _woving,_ is not a word, obviously, so it_ has_ to be_ moving_, but that's how it looks in your head, so it's like, what's really right, you know?"

"I know," Natalie placed her hand on Vanessa's knee and squeezed.

"But that just means we'll get you extra help okay? With the resource teacher? It's not bad. It's good. I had to do it, too. It took a lot of convincing on my parents' part. But I'm glad I did it, because now I can read _so well. _Just like you will be able to, too."

She smiled at her. Vanessa gave her a tentative one back. "Okay."

…

That night, while Natalie was cleaning up the dishes from dinner, Joe was upstairs tucking Vanessa into bed.

After putting the last pot in the drying rack, Natalie dried her hands on the towel and went upstairs, picking up the odd stray toy of Domino's or Vanessa's on her way down the hall. She nearly tripped on the snoring beast who was sleeping just outside Vanessa's door, and cursed mutely. "Fucking Domino."

The dog lazily raised his head in acknowledgement, panted, and fell back asleep, all within seconds. Just as she was about to go into the room and tuck Vanessa in herself, she stopped, not having the heart to interrupt her and Joe's time just yet.

He was singing to her, just as he did every night, though she'd never heard him before. She'd usually busy herself with watching one of the campy love reality shows that she's been sucked into on her DVR. Lately, it's been _Are You the One?_ And no, ninety-five percent of the time, the person is **_not _**_the one._ Tonight though, some soccer match was in its place, and she'd caught up on her DVR, so she decided to do some spying. All in good fun. She wasn't jealous or anything.

His voice was a little throaty tonight, but it wouldn't be like their little girl to notice. Natalie though, thought it was pretty_ fucking_ sexy. And the song he was singing, _that damn song_, it was reminding her of something. When he sang it to _her. _

The whole thing felt like light years ago now, and if they were to ever get married – something that Joe was bringing up more and more lately, with help from Vanessa (that _conniving little shit,_ Caputo), this song would be their first dance; it was non-negotiable.

_"__Tell me now baby, is he good to you? And can he do to you the things that I do? Oh, no, I can take you higher. Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire…" _

Now, Vanessa chimed in, her voice thick with the effort it took to hold onto consciousness. _"Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby edgy and dull and cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull." _

Sometimes, she thought that Joe teaching her the lyrics to that song wasn't the best thing they could have done as parents, but it couldn't be any worse that the Tupac song she had graced them with on their first meeting, and anyhow, she'd rather their kid grow up on stuff like this, Peter Gabriel and Billy Joel than the shit the kids listen to nowadays.

Taking the little duo by surprise, she picked up the next verse without missing a beat. She'd heard it enough times.

_"__At night I wake up with the sheets soaking wet and a freight train running through the middle of my head. Only you can cool my desire…" _

"Come in, Mommy," Vanessa invited her, patting the spot next to her head on the bed. Joe was at her feet, giving her the same sloping smile that their daughter was.

Natalie shrugged with a smile of her own, taking her spot at Vanessa's head and carding her fingers through her hair. She gave Joe a bit of a secret smile and he returned it, patting Vanessa's feet through the duvet.

_"__Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire…" _

_"__Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire…"_ Vanessa echoed, and Natalie followed their cues with the last croon.

_"__Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire…" _

"We should go on tour," Joe said after a minute with a chuckle. "I bet people would buy tickets. Then we could blow the hell out of Litchfield and live on a tour bus."

"Dream on," Natalie told him a bit snidely. She couldn't help it, it just slipped out sometimes, so she gave him a small smile to remedy it as she leaned over and kissed their little girl's forehead.

"We'll wake you up for school tomorrow at seven sharp, okay? You remember what we talked about earlier? How you're going to learn to read better from this moment forward?"

She spoke softly, not with any reproach in her tone whatsoever. Their child needed affection right now, encouragement, not berating, and she knew it was the right choice when Vanessa nodded.

Joe leaned down and kissed her cheek, and Vanessa puckered her lips in reaction. Watching her boyfriend kiss their daughter's mouth made her just a tad bit uncomfortable, and sure, it could be because she wasn't raised by the most affectionate parents on the block, but some of it was just personal preference too. She didn't mind that Joe did it, and Vanessa seemed to like it be done to her, but Natalie found it just a little perverse and felt awkward just thinking about it.

"Goodnight Daddy, I love you."

"Goodnight my little brown-eyed girl."

Natalie, feeling bad for her thoughts, went to give her another hug and breathed her in as she did so.

Vanessa smelt like the faint scent of dog, she was probably playing with Domino earlier, and spaghetti from their dinner. It was basically what she'd learned to associate as the smell of a child – a melding together of different, weird combinations depending on the day. She couldn't get enough of it.

She buried her nose in the depths of her curls, the artificial smell of that pear shit they now bought from the store on a regular basis filling her nostrils. She pursed her lips against the side of her head for a few seconds.

"I love you, babe," Natalie murmured into her skin, then slowly leaned back from her.

"I love you too, Mommy. You guys are the best parents ever."

"_Oh Christ_," Natalie said softly, feeling her eyes well up with tears.

"_Nat_," Joe said with a hint of a warning that only she could detect, as he squeezed her shoulders from behind.

"Goodnight Vanessa," he said one last time, and she echoed his sentiment, before he flicked off the light and closed the door of her bedroom behind them.

He pulled her in close and kissed her temple. "You know, we're not half bad at this whole parenting gig. I think we're going in the right direction."

She agreed. "I think it's pretty safe to say that she won't end up in juvenile. Or, you know, actual prison. And that's largely because of you."

"Nope, that's you, good cop," he grinned conspiringly at her, and she couldn't help but laugh softly, hugging him tightly from the front and burying her face in his chest.

"We can both be the good cops. Deal?"

He rubbed her back, and she didn't even have to look at him to see the smile on his face. "Deal."

"Now, you have five minutes to make the popcorn and get the TV on – or I'm asleep before any of those girls decides to pass on the hot doctor. You got me?"

She removed her head from its nook and grinned up at him. "You're serious? Oh my god, I love you. Okay. Deal."

She walked down the hallway, a bit fast, and he quietly called at her to slow down. She turned to look at him. "You're watching me walk away, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

She bit back a grin and turned back around. "Well in that case…"

She continued to walk down the hallway, indolently swinging her hips, with purpose. She laughed when she heard his low whistle of appreciation.

"Shut up," she told him, without turning around, starting down the stairs.

He caught up to her on one of the last steps, pushing her up against the wall, facing backwards.

"Sorry," he whispered against her back, jerking his pelvis into her lower back, dangerously close to her ass.

"But it's the only thing I can do, now that we have an annoyingly observant kid in the house. But I'm willing to gamble that she's a _very heavy _sleeper."

He reached down to finger the hem of her skirt and it took every ounce of willpower she had inside to take that hand and curl it in her own.

"Joe. We're literally not even a foot from her bedroom. And she's not. Last week, she woke up because a racoon was hunting through the garbage. And her window was closed."

"Damn," he pouted, and she laughed, turning around in his arms and kissing that pout clean off his face.

"But tomorrow from 9 to 3 I am _all yours_."

He rose his eyebrow with a smarmy smirk and grabbed for her left breast, kneading it through her blouse. She leaned her head back against the wall and let out a drawn-out sigh, just barely holding back a pathetic mewl that would do nothing but get him going even more.

He released his grip on her, and stepped back, continuing his descent down the stairs and into the living room without another word.

"Jackass," she mumbled to herself, straightening both her skirt and her blouse as she followed him; the only thing that would make sitting next to him and _not _jumping his bones bearable right now would be greasy, buttery popcorn and those oiled up, glistening abs of _Love Island._

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**_Author's Note: As always, I read and appreciate each and every review. Thank you! (I actually wait for them, as pathetic as that sounds - I guess I'm desperate for validation (much like Natalie Figueroa lol). _**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note: Hi! It's me again. :) With another installment, or chapter, but installment just sounds so much cooler, of The Adventures of Motherhood Without the Politician. I hope you guys like it! :) Oh, and sorry for the typos if there are any; just please ignore them because you'll likely know what I was trying to say anyways, but my fingers, or autocorrect, got sloppy. Which means there wasn't really an edit. Which means my perfectionist ass is probably going to come back to this tomorrow and fix that, but the impatient part of me won out, so I decided to just post it, first. You only live once, right? (And why I'm spending at least a quarter of mine hunched over my laptop writing fanfiction for underappreciated ships, I don't have an answer). :) **_

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Natalie slumped forward on the couch cushions, face first; she didn't care if there was about a pound of dog hair – _do dalmatians even shed?_ – or human hair – hers, Vanessa's, Joe's even, because he'd been losing more of it over the past few months, and while she admittedly was not looking forward to the day Joe Caputo goes completely bald, it wasn't something she would tell him.

She'd draw the line at using people's insecurities as an offending tactic. She knew what it felt like, and besides, today she was too sick to revel in the rush she felt when she got under his skin _just enough_. They had balance now. They lived it.

"Fuck me in the ass, you fucking flu," she mumbled into the leather, or more accurately groaned, and that was when she felt a hand, soft, much softer than her boyfriend's, against her cheek.

It moved for a few seconds before stilling on her jaw, and then there came a voice. Just as soft. Small. Pitchy. Again, not her boyfriend's. Where she expected Joe to say something like _'gladly, sweetheart' _this voice did not say that. Instead, it was pitiful, sympathetic. "Mom, do you feel sick? Like really, really sick?"

She rose her head from the couch to see her daughter in her peripheral vision, her expression betraying what her voice did not. Worry. Upset. Her eyebrows were curved inwards, her bottom lip taken hostage between her teeth. Her eyes were wide, expansive as they tried in vain to keep the emotion at bay, and there was no other word for it – they just looked _sad_.

Right in this moment, as palm came in contact with her cheek again, tender, sweet, and a little sweaty, or maybe that was just her, Natalie was startlingly reminded of Joe.

He'd taken to doing this exact thing with her every so often, and he would joke it was to make sure she hadn't died on them when he left vigil to go to work during the day, and she would roll her eyes, but still, there was a smile that wouldn't leave her. A flood of warmth that stayed because _holy shit_ this man actually _cared._

And now that Vanessa was doing it too, it meant not only did she care about her in the same albeit much different way, it meant that she was quantifying empathy. And empathy had been something she had struggled with, oppressed more like, due to job-related trauma, but she had soon learned that, to him, it was second nature.

Before all of this, before Vanessa, when they'd first brought baby-making to the table, she had joked time and time again, or at least, said so less seriously than she was actually thinking, that their kid would and should be like her, through and through.

Now though, she had completely changed her story. When Vanessa came to be with them, and the awkward _what-the-fuck-do-we-do-with-a-fucking-six-year-old_ time in their lives was over, it didn't take long for her to realize that she wanted Vanessa to have every, single, thing about her mirror her Daddy. Every quality of his that made her heart skip and her palms sweat, except for the _obvious physical_ things, the only boy to make her react like that since she was fourteen at a _New Kids on the Block_ concert – _fuck me, Joey Macintyre._

She felt the bowl that had been sitting in the crook of her arm nudge her softly. She broke her eye contact with her daughter, her gorgeous, beautiful, loving, empathy-quantifying, little girl, to stare at it for a second. Her brain felt a bit slow today, and so before she could even form a few words in question, Vanessa spoke again. Even quieter this time. She seemed nervous, now.

"Are you going to be sick? You look pale. Last week, when Kaitlyn went home sick from school, she looked really pale and stuff too, before she threw up all over her desk. It was gross."

"Awe, babe," Natalie cooed, reaching up to touch Vanessa's cheek but decided not to, so she awkwardly put her hand on her arm instead. The last thing she wanted to do was to get her sick. "I love that you worry so much, but please don't, okay? I'm fine. Kaitlyn's back at school now, right?"

Vanessa nodded. "Yeah. She even played Four Square with us at recess and ate her turkey sandwich her mom packed for her at lunch."

"See? Good as new," Natalie smiled. "And I will be, too. This isn't going to last forever."_ It better not_.

Now, Vanessa looked confused. "But Kaitlyn said that her mom said it was only a twenty-four-hour sickness. That's two days."

She smiled to herself. Her little girl was lucky to boast such a big brain in that cute little head of hers. "And? What's your point, babe?"

Vanessa looked up towards the stairs, vacant, Joe must still be in the shower, and took a deep breath. Natalie squeezed her hand, prompting the little girl to look at her, again.

"Woah, what's the secret?" she asked, a hint of a silly smile on her face. "Is it something we can't tell Daddy?"

Vanessa lightly shook her head. "No, Dad already knows. It's something he doesn't want me telling you."

The loss of _Mommy _and _Daddy _came too quickly for her liking. She was just getting used to that sugary voice calling for her or Joe in the middle of the night, or on the playground, or from the kitchen, where she was bent over her homework, studious, and making her so damn proud. The endearment turned to _Mom_ and_ Dad_ without so much as a warning, like a flick of the wrist, or the temperature dropping at the end of summer. She couldn't even remember which _Mommy _had been her last.

She could feel herself welling up with emotion at the thought. In actuality, she cried for two days straight, something that made Joe beyond confused, but glad that he was allowed to comfort her without being snapped at.

Sometimes, as a mom, she did things so unlike her that it made her skin crawl – like that – but sometimes, the things she did as a parent, made her _like herself_ and not only that, but _so much more_. It proved that her trauma hadn't turned her into a shell of a human, unhabitable for not only other people, but for herself, too.

"He doesn't want you telling me, _what_, exactly?

_Fucking dick._ If this secret wasn't about her upcoming birthday, it wasn't allowed to be a secret. It wasn't how she wanted this family to work.

Vanessa bit her lip again, worrying it in between her teeth. It was a common habit of hers, lately, but Natalie had yet to see the root cause. She hoped to god it wasn't _anxiety _or some bullshit like that. It seemed that, these days, in a group of five kids, _four_ had anxiety. This fucking world.

"You've been sick like this for _a week _now. He thinks you might be pregnant."

_Oh, Jesus Christ Almighty_. That man was going to get it. With newfound determination gotten from a rousing anger, Natalie threw herself up off the couch and nearly fell backwards again, catching herself before her daughter had to.

Without even turning back to acknowledge Vanessa, and her admission, she made it up the stairs slowly, stopping every so often to breathe – _in, out, in, out,_ because she was _stupidly _tired. Because she was sick. Not fucking _pregnant_. What in god's name goes through that man's head?

Joe turned his back to the mirror when he saw her in its reflection, his hands still on his tie. "Oh, hey babe. Glad to see you're up and moving."

_Yeah, up and moving to strangle your chicken wire neck, you fucking shithead. _He saw the look in her eyes too late. She stepped towards him and he stepped back, his tailbone hitting the vanity. "You seem…tense."

"Tense? _Tense!?_ That's the best word you could come up with. I'm _upset_, I'm _angry_, I'm _sad_, I'm _always fucking sad_ these days, for some stupid fucking reason, and I just want to understand your tiny pea brain for a second."

She watched him raise his hands in surrender. "Sure. Go ahead."

"Joe, do you think I'm pregnant? Do you? Because it looks like you told our daughter exactly that. Now, if I could get pregnant, right, hypothetically, we wouldn't have Vanessa. But, we do have Vanessa, and the reason we have her – our little blessing she is – is because your fucking dick couldn't get far enough up in me to _do anything._ Why would you assume that would just _magically fucking change? _Does the beer can work miracles that I'm unaware of?"

"_Our little blessing?_ Since when does something like _that _ever come out of _your_ mouth? From the woman who said that _being sentimental was a waste of time_."

His face was colored with amusement and a lightness that has been appearing more and more lately; usually, right before he says something totally disgusting like _I love you __**more**__. _

"Something's up with you," he said this time, beginning to work on his tie again, his meaty fingers fumbling with the fabric.

Suddenly, she felt warm, too warm, and lightheaded, maybe even a little dizzy. She had to sit down. Collapsing onto the bed in a huff, she stuck her head in between her knees. It was supposed to prevent her from passing out, but her head was spinning so much she was sure it wasn't doing shit.

She grabbed for something, anything, for purchase, and when she thought she'd find the quilt, she found Joe's arm instead. She grabbed onto it like she was drowning, and leaned her head against him, and that was when she felt it. Her face. It was wet_. She was_ _crying. _

"_Oh_,_ Nat," _he murmured, carding his hand through her hair, from her scalp all the way to the ends, and it nearly made her cry harder. "You…you gotta _breathe_, babe. Come on now. _Breathe, my love._

She was suddenly reminded of another time, another place, when he'd said those exact words to her, or, maybe not to her, specifically, but to the teary, snotty mess, sitting on the floor of her office, about five or six shallow breaths away from a god damn panic attack. _"Hey, you gotta – you gotta breathe. Take a deep breath. Yeah. Come on now." _

He'd felt awkward then, unsure of how to navigate what _the fuck_ was happening – he'd never seen her be anything but cold, terse, and she, she'd never shown him anymore than that. He's still a little awkward now, and so is she, spiralling like this, but she feels powerless to control it, like she had then, but this time, he's in control. He holds her and he calls her _love _and _babe,_ and kisses her head like he would Vanessa's, and she just _melts._

It was times like these that she wished she could give him the same teeming affection he gave to her, so effortlessly, and it wasn't even a tit-for-tat situation, she_ wanted_ to regardless. But being wanting and able are two distinctive things, and he knew that about her, knew that she was trying her best, and was proud of her for that, even still. He respected that she needed time, and the longer they were together, she'd admit, the easier it was getting.

She was just so _thankful_ for him in this moment, there was no other way to describe what it was she was feeling. Although, maybe there was.

"I love you," she said, through the slimy, disgusting sobs, those of which were slowly petering off into gasps as she tried to get her breathing in check. She'd cried like this in front of him only a few times before, but still, _a few times too many. _

He pursed his lips in her hair in response, and then he audibly inhaled, speaking now, lips muffled and firmly pressed against her scalp. It was like he didn't want to let her go just yet, and she settled in his arms, nuzzling her face in his chest, like Vanessa often did after a bad dream.

"I love you too. And I'm picking up a pregnancy test on my way home."

She didn't say anything for a minute, didn't have the mental, or physical energy. She just took another deep, centering breath through her nose, and instantly, stupidly, she was comforted by all the smells unique to him – his cologne, their washer detergent, and a very, very faint woodsy odor with a subtle sweetness, that she could taste on his tongue when she kissed him. _Bourbon._

It didn't alarm her, the booze, because he needed the _pick-me-up_ from the shitshow of his job and he was responsible, he didn't do it in front of their kid, and it wasn't a ritualistic thing. Never. He had a relationship with bourbon like she did with merlot. She wouldn't shame him for it. But, she'd shame him for this.

"No. No you are _not_. Are you hearing me right now, Joe? I'm _not_ pregnant. And never will be, okay?"

He didn't answer her. He just got off of the bed and went downstairs, calling for Vanessa to get her shoes on and _don't forget to say goodbye to your Mom _on his way. She got up too, wiped her tears, and hugged her daughter goodbye at the front door, accepting, but not reciprocating, of his kiss to her cheek. Her little episode back there aside, she was still pissed at him, _she wasn't fucking pregnant, _and she was going to win this war. She wouldn't be taking that test.

…

At just after three-thirty, Vanessa came traipsing in through the front door, with Joe right behind her. Domino became alert at their entrance, thumping his tail against the carpet, his tongue lolling around in his mouth in anticipation of something, anything, just a little fucking attention; and when Vanessa got down on the floor to scratch behind his ears, her school bag slipping from her shoulders, he went berserk. That dog loved her so much. It was adorable to watch. She felt her chest get heavy, an antecedence of _some sort_ of emotion. _Jesus._ It just wouldn't stop.

Vanessa rose to a stand again after a minute, leaving her backpack in the middle of the damn floor – she fought to sigh, and loudly - before walking over to her. She revealed to her, her hand, in a partially closed fist, until she let it go, and Natalie felt something drop into her palm. A rectangular box_. He got their kid in on it, too? That was dirty, Joseph Caputo. _

"Dad says you've gotta take it. Like pee on it, or whatever gross thing you have to do to see if you're pregnant or not."

Natalie fought back the frown that was threatening to take over her entire face. She _was _going to kill him, but then she thought she'd try another thing first. If he could use their daughter, so could she.

"Ness, since when do we ever do what Dad says?" She gave her a wink for good measure.

Vanessa didn't react. At all. Wow, he'd prepared her well. Which meant that he knew_ her_ too well, which meant that she was going to probably have to leave him.

"_Mom…"_

"_Nat..."_

Joe sighed, and then so did Vanessa, and then Natalie almost lost it. They both had that same, annoying tone to their voices, both stern and neutral at the same time, _'we just have your best interest at heart, and we want what's best for you because we love you.' _Ugh_. _

"You two sound way too alike for my sanity. Please, for my ever-loving sanity, do not do that again."

Joe chuckled, and Vanessa just smiled, obviously proud of herself. He kissed the top of her head, holding her hand that held the unopened box, that stupid stick.

"Just take the test, babe. Okay? I know you're nervous, but if you're so sure you're not pregnant, why the nerves?"

_It's because I'm not. I'm not fucking sure, okay?_

"It's because you don't know, do you? And secretly, it's killing you inside not to know."

That's it. She was taking this stupid test, packing her bags, and leaving first thing tomorrow morning. But then she raised her eyes to look at his dumb, hopeful face and she knew that she could never. Love really gets in the way of things. _It fucking sucks. _It makes you do things you don't want to do. Like pee on a stick and wait for two colored lines to appear.

"Fine."

She stood up to make her way into the master bathroom in their bedroom for maximum privacy, but his hand on her arm stopped her. "What?"

His eyes softened. "_Babe_…whatever happens in there, or, you know, doesn't happen, I'll still love you, you got me? Nessa and I will still love you."

He didn't say it, but there was a word after _you._ It wasn't that he didn't want to say it, hell, she knew by now that this man, this beautiful, wonderful man would move heaven and earth for her, but it was that he didn't have to, because in a way, he already had. _Enough._ _We'll still love you enough.__** I**__ will still love you enough. __**More **__than enough._

She had convinced herself, with her panties around her ankles and Joe's old college t-shirt pulled up to her waist, behind the solitude of the closed bathroom door, and in the beats of silence between the the ticking of her iPhone timer, counting down from sixty to zero, that she didn't need this. That the three of them together would be enough. That they'd have to be.

Until they didn't.

And just like that, she let herself think about biology again. She allowed for it to have some petty importance, because it _could_, and she thought about whether or not a child of hers and Joe's would have her hair and his eyes, or her mouth and his nose, and it felt _so good_ to be thinking about all of the trivial bullshit she'd started to think about after each time they'd finish, the next less of a production than the last- _this was it, this time, I'm pregnant. I feel different. _All the dumb crap she forced herself to forget after time and time again - _this wasn't it. I'm not pregnant. I feel numb. I don't want to do this anymore. _

A knock on the door startled her, so much that she almost dropped the test into the toilet bowl. Then, there was his voice, warm, caring, _tender._ "Hey, babe? Everything okay in there?"

"Um," she sniffled, "can you – can you come in here, please?"

She hated how vulnerable she sounded, _still_, and knew that while she herself couldn't get past it, Joe certainly had, but she hoped that he hadn't picked up on the tears enshrouding her words, though she knew it was useless trying to stop them. It was confirmed when he practically busted the door down, ready to hold her on that bathroom floor until she could stand again. It's how it went the last time, but it wouldn't, not now.

"I'm pregnant," she whispered, and then immediately after, she wanted to go back in time and mentally kick herself.

That wasn't how it was supposed to go; she'd thought about it, night after night, with him sleeping soundly next to her, and later, with him on his side of the bed and Vanessa in the middle, one of each of her feet kicking both her and him in the ribs. She was supposed to wrap up the test in some tiny ass box with a yellow bow – gender neutral – or, and she at first made herself nauseous with this one, but a couple days later, she couldn't wait to actually pull it off.

She was going to get t-shirts made, for all three of them, and she'd give him his when he got home from work that day. It was going to say _Papa Bear_ on it, with a cheesy iron-on teddy bear on the front. Vanessa's would say _Sister Bear_ and hers would, obviously, say _Mama Bear_, and just below her bellybutton, in smaller font, would be the words _baby bear_. It was going to be so fucking _adorable _and _dumb_ and _societally compliant,_ but she had wanted to do it _right._

This – _this_ – standing on their tiled floor, boxed in by a porcelain toilet and a clawfoot tub, in a t-shirt that barely fielded her thighs with nothing underneath, and a stick covered in her excretions dangling from her limp fingers was not _it._

But then he smiled at her and laughed, likely in shock and disbelief, before grabbing the test from her and turning it over in his hands. When he said it, when he said those three words out loud, letting her hear them leave the lips of another person, the lips of the man she did this for, and the man who did this all for her, it was like none of that mattered, that none of it truly ever did, because it would be _this moment_ that they'd remember.

"Natalie, you're pregnant!? _Holy shit,_ I actually did it."

She chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning in to kiss him.

"You mean _we _did it, Beer Can. That's offensive."

He laughed and reciprocated her kiss, and then she laid her head on his chest and just listened to his heartbeat for a minute; steady, dependable, soft, but authoritative. He was _such _a great dad.

"I love you."

"I love you so fucking much, babe," he murmured against the side of her head, his hand pressed against her lower back. "_So fucking much_."

…

They told Vanessa as unceremoniously as they could, but neither of them were able to hold back their tears. Their little girl said nothing, just wiped the tears from underneath both of their eyes and gave them the smallest smile, whether it was something of happiness or _acceptance_, Natalie wasn't sure, and that made her sick.

"Ness."

She took a deep breath before she spoke, felt Joe squeeze her hand. She needed to think for a minute. She was hoping her words would calm their little girl, mollify her, but above all, show her that none of this – this baby, their family growing by one, biological child, would not affect the love she and Joe felt for her, and that it never, ever would. She couldn't afford to fuck this up.

She held Vanessa close to her and held her hand, tracing over her knobbly little knuckles with her thumb.

"Your Dad and I love you very, very, much. Okay, babe? Are you hearing me? We want you to know that just because I'm pregnant, that we're having a baby, it does not mean that we stop loving you. That we stop_ needing_ _you. _

When we adopted you, actually, the moment we first saw you that day, sweet girl, we knew you were ours. You didn't even have to open that cute little mouth. But that was just a bonus."

Vanessa giggled and then she did, too. The power of mimicry. She couldn't help herself.

"Your Dad and I knew that we weren't complete without you and none of that changes just because you're not our only one anymore. We weren't expecting this."

She glanced at Joe for a beat and he met her eyes briefly, and she could see that he was still reliving that moment in his head. "But here we are, and you, Vanessa Kate, are with us in this, too. You are _always_ going to be with us, no matter what."

"Even when you're sixteen and want nothing to do with us anymore," Joe cut in. "Or nineteen and off to college. Or twenty-three and moving into your first apartment."

"Let's get real here," she said, burying her lips in Vanessa's curls. "She's never getting rid of us. She'll be thirty-two with her own children to take care of, but she'll still be here, in this house, taking care of us too, when we're old and grey and senile."

Joe smiled at the both of them and took Vanessa's other hand with an affectionate squeeze. "That sounds great to me. What about you, my brown-eyed girl? I think it's a pretty fair agreement, yeah?"

Vanessa gave them a_ real_ _smile _this time, one that showed off her loose tooth that she's been ever so proud of, and folded herself into their one, big, _family _hug.

"Yeah. I guess. Are you going to find out if the baby's a boy or a girl? Ooh! If it's a girl can we name her Paige? My best friend from school is named Paige, so obviously it's a great name, don't you think?"

Natalie smiled back at her, and she watched from the corner of her eye as Joe did the same. Those words had a lot of time to catch up and resonate with her, and they would, in due time, but for now, and she couldn't decide which it was, Vanessa was either playing the role of blithe indifference, or blissful ignorance; and although neither one was the goal here, it just succeeded in reminding her how blessed she was to have one happy, sweet, kid in her life, plus one more. So, she'd play along for now.

"It's a wonderful name, sweetheart. And we'll definitely consider it."

Joe flattened the curls that framed her innocent, heart-shaped face and kissed her forehead.

"Maybe as a middle name."

* * *

_**Author's Note: As always, I love seeing reviews from my readers. So, if you made it this far, congratulations, and review. :) **_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's Note: Here's another chapter! I don't want to give too much away but I wanted to incorporate Taystee into this one and honestly, I loved writing her character, so you'll probably be seeing more of her. Let me know what you think! As always, reviews are very much my kryptonite. **_

* * *

Natalie was slaving over the stovetop, keeping a close eye on the sauce she was making, because the last thing she wanted was for it to boil over, or burn to the bottom of the pan, or something. The spaghetti noodles were calmly simmering, still having at least another three or four minutes, and she only knew that because when she'd taken one out of the pot, almost burning her fingers in the process, and tried to eat it, it was both hard and chewy at the same time.

Not the ideal texture for noodles. She knew that much.

In college, all throughout her marketing degree, she practically lived off of pasta, being the only thing she could cook without the danger of death by salmonella, or some meat-born disease (she'd been a bit of a hypochondriac). Four years._ Jesus_, _no wonder_ she was fat. And she'd even had the nerve to question it.

Now, she gingerly brought the spoon to her mouth, tasting the sauce to check its temperature, and then tried another noodle, all the while thinking that she should have made a salad or something, so that she wouldn't feel _like shit_ eating the spaghetti, with parmesan cheese, because _who has pasta without cheese_, and for a split second, she entertained the thought of skipping on dinner altogether. But anorexia was like taking _one drag_ of a cigarette, and she didn't trust herself, not when it wasn't _only_ her life at risk.

Natalie took one more noodle from the pot and, almost for good measure, dipped it into the sauce, before dropping it less than gracefully into her mouth. She patted her abdomen affectionately, noticing that it was beginning to look distended. She'd be sixteen weeks tomorrow, but it had felt like centuries.

"Sometimes, Tiny Trouble, you make my life an _absolute living hell. _You're so lucky I love you. Look at me, eating my weight in carbs, it's all for you."

She'd been so, so sick, _violently sick_, throughout her first three and a half months, and only in the last two weeks has it slowly began to dissipate.

She's finally been able to sleep without having a puke bowl next to the bed because she was almost always half-asleep and in no shape to make it to the bathroom and those anti-nausea mediations were bullshit, all three types they had her on, and she was convinced they were placebos or something. No marketable medication could be _that useless._

Joe had been so good to her though. He'd stay up with her the nights she was too sick to sleep, and power through work the next day like it had been nothing at all. Vanessa too. She's been _all hands-on-deck for baby _these past few months, offering to get her an extra blanket, or some water, or to switch the television from some gummy bear and infinitely annoying _Disney_ show to _Bachelor in Paradise_.

It was her newest low-rent, trashy obsession, which was basically _Love Island _without the cash, and surprise, they've all dated either each other, their person's best friend or their arch nemesis before coming on the show, which almost always comes out at the worst possible time. It's fairly entertaining, especially when she's stuck on the damn couch all day, her body pushing her to sickness if she even so much as_ moves wrong._

"Mom, can I ask you something?"

Natalie turned to see Vanessa standing on her right, barely tall enough to reach just above the stovetop. They'd realized pretty quickly that she was short for her age, but it didn't seem to stop her. She hadn't developed a complex yet, and she probably wouldn't. _Good. Complexes were for suckers. _

"Sure babe, what's on your mind?"

Vanessa took a small breath and pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose. They had a habit of slipping lately, and their daughter claimed it_ wasn't_ because she was guilty of bending the arms and effectively loosening them; but Natalie wasn't dumb, she was a kid, a kid who'd been forced to wear something on her face after having nothing there for eight years. She was bound to do something to try and make them feel more normal, less alien on her face, until they start to feel that way on their own.

They didn't want to get her glasses, especially when she'd put up such a fight with them about it, but her teacher was adamant that it was something they really should consider. So, all three of them went to the optometrist, and after a rosy-cheeked, older woman confirmed Vanessa's slight nearsightedness, they'd decided on a pair of frames together.

They were square, brown frames, with a subtle tortoise shell pattern and honestly, Natalie thought that Vanessa looked absolutely_ sweet_ with them on. Some people were lucky and their faces just _suited _glasses, and their daughter was one of them.

One _'you look so __**grown-up**__,_ _Nessa_' from her dad, and a _'very __**sophisticated**__, babe' _from her mom, and Vanessa was happy to leave the store with her new glasses, walking on the sidewalk like it was her own personal runway, and stopping at every car mirror in the parking lot to admire how she looked in them, with that momentary vanity that kids felt when someone compliments them on their ponytail or their t-shirt.

"I want to play baseball. It's super fun when we play in gym, and you guys always _encourage a team sport, _**remember,** but there's only a boy's team in the league this year."

"Well, we'll have to see what your dad thinks about that one," Natalie said, reaching in the cupboard above the stove to get three bowls for their dinner.

She placed them in the middle of the table, and without being told, Vanessa got up from her perch on the barstool to get forks and knives. Natalie thanked her.

"_I _think you have full grounds to join the boys team if you want to. Biological sex means nothing in this world anymore, anyways."

"Great, okay, so you're saying yes. That means dad has to."

Natalie raised an eyebrow. "And why is that? He's a big boy who can form his own opinions."

In response, Vanessa crossed her arms, though not in defiance, just in a sort of natural idiosyncrasy, as Natalie had caught onto a few months after she'd became a fixture in her and Joe's life, and it soon became hard to miss.

"Because everybody knows that you have the balls in the relationship."

"Excuse me? And don't say _balls_…at the dinner table. Say it wherever else you want for all I care, men aren't forced to censor their language to appear _classy_, so why should women?"

"Because, Natalie, have you forgotten she's an eight-year-old girl? And before you say anything, it's not the part that she's a girl that matters. It's the eight-year-old part." Joe said, placing a light kiss onto both her head and Vanessa's, before leaning over to let her belly in on the action, too.

She couldn't help but squirm, and Joe chuckled, putting a firm hand on her waist to stop her. "I can't believe you're not just used to me doing that by now, Nat."

He leaned in closer to her, ostensibly to avoid those prying child ears. "I've kissed _far more sensitive_ areas on your body, funny how you didn't seem to mind, then."

She closed her eyes and bit her lip, but it was too late to bite back the small, soft sound of approval. She would give _anything _to have his mouth between her legs, here and now.

She could just see it in her mind's eye, bracing herself with both hands against the sink, and he's the one down on his knees this time, getting her off, his mouth on her clit, sucking, biting, teasing, his rough hands holding her knees, his emboldened fingers pressing into her thighs, sweeping across her folds, and then they're inside her; and she's moaning his name and telling him what he wants to hear, and willingly, because her imagination and a dildo can only carry her so far.

"_Mm_ don't say those things. You can't say those things and not follow through."

She's been a totally different kind of horny since becoming pregnant, that is when she's not so sick she feels like she could die. And he's been so_ fucking_ accommodating, pun definitely intended.

"Later, babe," he whispered. "Now ease up your grip on my hand, because I just might be picturing your slender, bony fingers gripping my dick," he sucked in a breath, "and it might be my demise."

"_Jesus_, Joe." Natalie tore her hand from his as if he scalded her. "Our daughter is _right here_."

"_And you're deflecting._ You were just thinking of me finger fucking you, weren't you? Right here. Surrounded by leftover spaghetti and soapy dishes. You've got_ dirty_ in your eyes. It's distracting."

She pushed him far away from her. "_You're _distracting. Now get your plate. It's time to" –

She was going to say _eat_ – but immediately rethought. "It's time for dinner. Nessa, you ready?"

Vanessa gave her response – _yes!_ \- from where she was watching TV just in the other room, _thank god,_ and came to join them at the kitchen table.

She waited until both she and Joe were sitting with their plates full to start eating – always polite, their girl, and after three mouthfuls, she paused, her fork filled with twirled pasta halfway to her mouth.

"Hey dad, I have a question for you. Can I join the baseball team this year?"

Joe looked up at her from his pasta, quirking an eyebrow. "Sure, sweetheart. I don't see why not. Your mom and I always thought a team sport was a good idea for you."

Vanessa brightened. "That's what I thought. See, even if you said no, mom would overrule you because she has the nards in this relationship."

"_Vanessa Kate Caputo_! I told you not to use that language at the dinner table, young lady," Natalie admonished, while Joe just stared, slack-jawed.

Vanessa barely bristled at the use of her full, newly given, name. "What? Mom, you said I couldn't say _balls _at the dinner table. I didn't. I said _nards_. Different word, same meaning."

"Are we raising a future lawyer here, or a future heathen?" Natalie asked, and Joe chuckled in response but tried to hide it from their daughter.

"My money's on heathen."

…

When Joe realized it was a boy's team his little girl had been intent on joining, he basically had a mental breakdown. At first, it was really funny, witnessing his head spin like that, but then it very quickly became tiring. Even now, in the bleachers of Vanessa's first game, he was still having a total bitch fest, claiming that he didn't trust these boys, and sure, they were only eight, "but boys are dicks, Natalie. They _have _dicks, dicks that they like to stick inside – "

She put up a hand to stop him. "Joe, they're eight years old. Vanessa is no Jon Benet Ramsay, she is not going to have her virginal innocence taken by some pedophile, let alone some sweet little boy with a cute _Farris Bueller_ swagger on the baseball field, okay?"

He sighed, slumping on the bench beside her. She smiled. "Now eat your heartburn in a bun before I do, okay? I'm fucking _starving all the time._"

He poked her belly affectionately, still growing by the day. "That's it, Tiny Trouble, keep your mommy eating. You're making my job easier."

"Fuck off, Joe," she snarled, then she pointed out at the field. "Look, Nessa's going out onto the field!"

She was right field. Again. And as luck would have it, the next time, and the time after that. Just like time before. And the time before that. Something was wrong here. She was going to show these boys that injustices could be a _real bitch._

Joe tried, and failed, to stop her from marching over to the dugout, and she waved nicely at her daughter, who waved back as she drank from her water bottle.

"Mind if I give these guys a pep-talk?" she asked the coach, but of course, it was purely out of cordialness that was all bullshit. She didn't even wait for an answer. She was too angry.

"Listen here, birds for brains," Natalie said, her eyes narrowing. "I don't know what your strategy is here, but it's not working, and it also involves Vanessa never getting a decent infield position. What's up with that?"

"Well, she's _a girl_. And she might not be able to run as fast as us to get the ball or throw as far as us. She's not as strong. We need to get outs. So, we play our best on the positions that get those for us."

"Let me get this straight, _miniature Red Forman_, you're saying Vanessa isn't a perfectly capable, amazing, baseball player with a wicked arm just because _she's a girl?_ I'll have you know she can pitch it across the plate like nobody's business but _you assholes_ won't give her a chance because of her X chromosomes?"

"Mom! _Language_, geez!" Vanessa piped up, but she wasn't embarrassed, she was smiling. _That's my girl._

Natalie kissed her on the head before heading back to her seat, without another word, as if none of it had even happened, although, before she could get too far, she heard a few things.

"You're mom's pretty terrifying."

"I know. She's a prison warden. And if you _dare_ leave me out of anything because of my gender again, she will have your ass thrown in Max so fast you won't even have time to make a collect call."

Natalie snickered. Sure, some of the logistics didn't add up, given she was the _interim_ warden of a _woman's _prison, and there was no way Max was a place for _little t-ball shit starters_, and collect calls were made _after_ entering prison, but the threat would still stand, if they dare fuck with her daughter again.

Joe welcomed her back to her seat with a kiss to her cheek. "What happened over there? Those boys look like they just shit themselves. You tell her good luck?"

She smirked. "Something like that."

…

After the game, the two of them decided that Vanessa deserved a little something special, and Natalie was craving lemon curd ice cream as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. She leaned her forehead against the window as both Vanessa and Joe sang along to some slow, tragic country song with a rich timbre. Maybe this crap was growing on her.

"_She sees him pull up in his old truck with a brand-new girl. I saw her face as she walked into the place and it wrecked her world. Wish I could go outside and give her my best advice and tell her it would be okay, but I just drank my coffee and then I went on my way." _

Joe looked at Vanessa through the rear-view mirror and winked. It made her smile. She loved that they shared this, as much as country music normally grinded her gears _like nothing else. _

"_Now she's hiding out there in her car, still smokin' and cryin.' She don't have to go too far to figure out that she's dyin.' Thinks her cigarette will make it better but she's just lyin' to herself about getting him back."_

Okay, so it was a _very strong_ maybe. She felt herself slowly falling asleep, pregnancy kicking her ass in ways she had never thought possible.

…

"Wow, Mr. C when you told me Natalie was pregnant, I had no idea you meant _this pregnant._ She's about ready to pop."

The tension in her chest was weaker now than it had been the first time Taystee called her _Natalie,_ out of the blue and very bluntly, as if the woman were anything else. _"If you have the right to call me Taystee, I have the right to call you Natalie, unless that is, you prefer Mrs. Figueroa? Hm?" _

She blanched and looked to Joe for back up, but he offered none._ "She's right, Nat. I know it's a bit weird, but she's right. And if she calls you Mrs. Figueroa one more time, I might have to slit my wrists."_

Taystee diverted her eyes from Natalie's obnoxiously protruding abdomen, made even more so by her skinniness still everywhere else, and looked to Vanessa, next, who was standing almost dutifully beside her parents, with a grin.

"I know, isn't it _so cool_? And if you are quiet and still and patient, unless he's on a kicking rampage, Mom and Dad call him _Karate Kid _sometimes, you can feel him _kick your hand_."

"Him?" Taystee asked, her eyes widening as she looked from Natalie to Joe and back again. "Y'all are having a boy? That's fantastic. V said you guys were hoping for a boy."

Natalie nodded softly. "Yeah." She smoothed her hand over her seersucker dress, which was not at all made for maternity wear, but she made it work. "We were."

She reached over and carded a hand affectionately through Vanessa's ringlets, those she hoped would stick around for awhile yet. "But having a daughter has been a blessing I never knew I wanted. So, now having both, it's double. And getting the chance to be pregnant? Triple."

She felt Joe's lips on her cheek and his hand squeeze hers, and without even thinking about it, she squeezed back.

Taystee raised her eyebrows. Her gaze fell to their clasped hands and then she smirked, and it was impish, sentimental. "Somehow, I don't believe that _this_ is the woman with the soul of old fingernail clippings."

"What?" Vanessa asked, her eyes questioning, and imploring Taystee's with curiosity. "What does that mean?"

Taystee clapped her hands together. "You wouldn't _believe it_, V. The kinds of things I could tell you about your parents. But I guess things that should wait till you're older."

She turned her gaze onto both her and Joe now. "You two weren't exactly perfectionists at the art of subtlety if you know what I'm saying."

Natalie tried in vain to interrupt, as did Joe, but Taystee put up her hand.

"Please. You two were _disgustingly in love_ and you didn't even see it. All that sniping and sparing and shit? And before y'all say it, you weren't _in lust_, neither. Not when I saw you, anyway. And you gave him boxers, Natalie. You actually went out and boughtthe man _underwear._ That is some _white_ _domestic wife_ shit right there.

"And now look it you, you got one adorable little girl and a son on the way. All that sex had to lead to _something._ But, for all that talk y'all had about who likes what up the ass, I assumed it would only lead to pulled groin muscles and hip flexors. Huh, guess everyone likes a little vanilla now and again."

"Come on, Taystee, not in front of the kid, okay?" Natalie told her, shaking her head in that motherly way she's come to use most these days.

"_Us?_ _Vanilla? _Gross, never. That's not – Natalie won't let me touch her ass like that with a ten-foot pole. We've already had that conversation, _many times_. It brings up certain gay ex-husband issues – "

Natalie gawked at him. "Oh, go, _fuck yourself, Joe,"_ she said, and heard Taystee's, now unmistakeable, bold laughter.

"Now it really be like old times."

"_Now,_ Nat, _come on_. That's not showing our kid what love is."

"I'd beg to differ," Taystee said, addressing Vanessa now, with a laughter in her eyes.

"See, V, your parents show love for each other in the most fucked up ways sometimes, but I'm sure it's different at home, huh? Mommy, Daddy, the dog, and the white picket fence?"

"_Jesus_," Natalie grouched, crossing her arms over her distending belly.

"Ness, please don't repeat any of what was just said here, got it? When your teacher asks, go with the _Mommy, Daddy, the dog, and the white picket fence_ thing. Or we might get a talking to from that Mrs. Mallory."

Vanessa just laughed, the same look Taystee had now reflecting in the sweetness of her eyes. Taystee was like Vanessa's cool older sister, and, honestly, Natalie didn't mind. The kid could use another womanly role model in her life, and Tasha Jefferson, if she learned anything in the last couple years, was a strong, independent, lively woman, one that she'd consider the perfect choice for her daughter to admire. Honestly and truly.

"Sure, Mom. But one of these days, I'm going to hear how you guys _really _became a couple. And I know it's not that _Notebook_ bullshit you keep feeding me. Besides, dad looks nothing like Ryan Gosling."

"One of these days, babe." Natalie kissed her head. "You'll wish your love story was like _The Notebook_. And you'll also come to understand, the truth."

She looked at Joe with a sly, soft, smile. "And that's that nobody's ever is."

…

At nine-twenty-two in the morning, on July 15, 2021, everything that was pure and just in this world, their baby boy, was born, weighing in at six pounds, seven ounces.

Oliver Lachlan Caputo had, to both Joe and Natalie's delight, loads of wispy dark hair sticking to his head, a ruddy cherub face, with full, luscious lips that were credited to his mother (who had for years maintained they were not fillers, and only on that day did Joe believe her).

When deciding on his name, they had argued. None of their respective names appeased the other party, and eventually, they just went with a name combination that didn't make the other person want to kill themselves.

"_Lachlan!?" Natalie groaned in exasperation. "Are you fucking kidding me? Okay, fine, I'll give you one thing. It's better than Landon, or god forbid, Logan. What, you have a fetish for the letter or something?" _

"_Oliver? What, as in __**Olive**__-er?" _

"_That's __**the best**__ you could come up with?" _

"_Okay, it's not a bad name. I'll admit it has the potential to grow on me." _

"_And Lachlan makes me throw up in my mouth the least out of all the awful names you've suggested, so I guess a middle name isn't totally out of the question." _

"_Babe, have we found a name for our little Karate Kid?"_

"_Yeah." She smiled at him, at his hand there on her stomach as the skin rippled. "Looks like it." _

_..._

It's been three weeks now and baby Oliver was thriving; and by thriving, she meant waking up every two hours, screaming to be fed or changed or just held because he was a _needy little bastard _(just like another boy she knew who was near and dear to her heart). And Natalie, for her part, was most definetly _not _thriving.

She hadn't woken up with vomit in her hair and a boy on her chest since her piqued college days, and the ever-leaking nipples were new, and also ruining every one of her blouses. She'd stopped trying to look presentable the third day after being home from the hospital because honestly, she _couldn't fucking care less._

Joe was stuck with her now, bound to her by two kids and a dog, so looking _fuckable_ was the least of her concerns, where keeping both herself and her son alive to see another day became her only priority.

So, that's how she ended up in his jungle nursery at three in the morning, staring mindlessly at the zebras and lions and monkeys adorning his dark green walls, curtesy of Joe and IKEA stencils.

Her hair was a mess, tangles of day-old spit-up and dry shampoo mixed in with her hair's natural oils because she'd said _fuck dry shampoo_ at day two and _fuck showering altogether_ on day three. Her cheeks were sunken, dark, ebony bruises swelled the underpart of her eyes, and she was so _fucking pale_.

She looked and felt _old as shit,_ Tracy still recovering from Oliver's _Texas Chainsaw Massacre, _and when the moment comes when Vanessa dares to ask if she wants to play some make-believe crap with her, Natalie was sure she would scream.

She was too old for this. Birth. Babies. Postpartum. All of it. Maybe she and Joe should have just cut their losses and enjoyed each other's company, maybe –

"Nat?"

Natalie looked to the open doorway and with the aid from the lamp in the room, she could see the shadow of his silhouette.

"Hey babe," she murmured tiredly. "He's not sleeping for longer than ten minutes at a time on his own, so…I'm here. Maybe we should have introduced co-sleeping, maybe – "

Joe came further into the room and wrapped his arms around her midsection, his hands feeling the puffiness of her post-baby belly. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

"I don't trust it. SIDS statistics are staggeringly high. _Hm,_ lactating stains. On my shirt. Sexy," he purred into her ear, and she pushed him away.

"Hardly. Get out of here. I'm disgusting. How can you stand to even look at me?"

"Because," he wrapped his arms around her tighter, undeterred, kissing the back of her neck. "You gave birth to my son. _Our _son. And I don't think I've loved you more than I did in that moment. Except maybe when Vanessa called you _mommy_ for the first time."

She put Oliver down in his crib and turned around to face him, pressing her hands on his chest and giving him a kiss. He held her there for longer, and she savoured the taste of him on her lips.

"You didn't pull away."

She smiled at him, rolling her eyes and biting her lip. It's a game they played sometimes.

"Yeah, well, it's the middle of the night. My reflexes are compromised."

He chuckled quietly. "Don't worry, Nat. You and me? Two kids? A dog? We got this."

She laughed, too. "Why in the world do I believe you? When did I start believing things that came out of your stupid mouth?"

He shrugged, keeping her in his embrace. "Because love makes you crazy."

She smiled up at him and teasingly poked his chest. "And who's going around saying that I love you? Hm?"

"Shut up, _you idiot_," he said to her, kissing her forehead and running his hands down her sides.

* * *

_**Author's Note: There's a nod to one of my favorite Fig/Caputo scenes in this fic – did you catch it?**_ _**Also sorry for any typos. I didn't proofread. But after this took me over a span of a few days, I wanted it up, ASAP. I'll come back later for anything that might be glaringly obvious.**_


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